


How to Stage a Coup

by cenobitesquid, InsufferableArchanist



Category: Final Fantasy VIII, The Great (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, BDSM, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Historical, Multi, Other, Romance, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenobitesquid/pseuds/cenobitesquid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsufferableArchanist/pseuds/InsufferableArchanist
Summary: When Cloud Strife arrives to marry into his new position in Russia, his life becomes stranger and more extraordinary than he could ever have dreamed.
Relationships: Hojo/Vincent Valentine, Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Reno/Rufus Shinra, Reno/Rufus Shinra/Cloud Strife, Rufus Shinra/Cloud Strife, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Sephiroth/Rufus Shinra
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 Tags:
> 
> Cloud/Rufus,  
> Rufus is an asshole, historically accurate marital sexpectations
> 
> Cloud/Sephiroth  
> hurt/comfort, oral sex, cloud is trans but doesn’t know it yet
> 
> Hojo/Vincent  
> Knife play, religious themes, suicide attempt, bondage, voyeurism, masturbation

The ride through Russia had been trying, to say the best of it.

Not that Cloud had uttered a word of complaint. She had spent most of her time sleeping, or reading, or when those possibilities exhausted themselves, staring out at the rolling terrain. It wasn't so different from Austria in many ways, excepting the fact that there was just so much of it, and all so wild. That was alright by her. Staring into the middle distance was what Cloud had been told she did best, many times.

Still, it had become a routine that replaced life, and then one that was again interrupted by actually arriving at their destination; a magnificent palace, with such an explosion of detail and color and people that Cloud felt at once overwhelmed, as if her head had been forced under water for some time and she had emerged, now, re-baptized. 

Her own garments were refined enough, but very evidently lacking the ostentatious displays of court life; all that stood between her and her new home and the pain of disappointing her new husband was a small twig of spruce, which she had worked on grasping gently, trying not to clutch it on reflex. That was the hardest part of all, she told herself, and once the spruce had been delivered, the hardest part would be over.

The great throne room was grandiose and completely empty, the silence practically echoing in the vast space, congealing around the red velvet throne. Cloud was left there, when the doors closed, in utter isolation. A minute passed, then two, then finally the doors opened. 

Rufus Shinra III walked in. He moved with an efficiency that announced his main objective while walking was to get to his destination by the most direct route, without any courtly frills or leisurely bullshit.

His gaze passed over Cloud but did not linger, he waited until he was standing directly before her to fix her with his attention. He was resplendent in white and gold, a cape collared and trimmed with white fox fur, his pale golden hair against his equally fair skin made his eyes seem spectacularly blue, like the heart of a glacier. He lingered a long moment, his expression inscrutable, then walked a slow circle around his bride-to-be. 

"...You looked taller in your portrait."

Don't crush the spruce. Cloud had been repeating these words to herself so in her head that they were almost calming now, and she tried not to move her head as she was encircled.

"I... What?"

"Are you hard of hearing as well?" He asked, stopping in front of her again, that same impassive expression still on his face. "Might as well take a tally of your flaws upfront."

"I... Am not. The language is simply new to me. I will work on it. The height I cannot change myself, but I am happy to pray to God to sway His opinion on the matter - and please you, of course."

"Don't waste your breath. Other than my divine right to rule, God has not done me many favors to date." The reply was in perfect German, just as well, he wouldn't have to watch Hojo pretend to grimace at his heresies.

That caught Cloud off guard for a moment, so much so that she stared openly at Rufus, lips only slightly parted, but on her, an expression that might as well have been agape and gawping.

"...Well. Perhaps I will manage to make up for it," Cloud said, remembering the spruce in her hand a moment later. She extended it slightly, and while the trembling in her fingers might have been confused for nervousness, she knew it was not nervousness she was repressing. "I bring you an evergreen. I hope it may be as our love for one another."

Rufus's brows ticked up just slightly as he regarded the sprig between her fingers with something that was hard to mistake for anything but vague disdain. "Love? Don't be ridiculous. You weren't brought here for that. It seems you're ignorant of far more than just the language. Well. Let us hope your womb is less barren than your mind. The wedding is at 7, dinner to follow. I'm going riding."

"Ah. All alone?" Cloud asked, as Rufus turned. At even the slightest movement to follow him, one of the gentlemen in the room - a military general, if she wasn't misremembering - cleared his throat mildly.

"There are other... Preparations to make, while the Emperor rides."

Cloud's hand slightly lowered. Don't crush the spruce.

"Right. Of course," she said. "Then I will look forw-"

She turned her head back to see Rufus already swept out of the room, a few men following silently in his wake. For just a moment, it made her think of the foxes his furs had come from; silent, pretty, and liable to aim for the throat. The smell of spruce filled the air as she crushed the small branch in one hand, looking after where the Emperor had just been.

"....Go easy on her." Vincent muttered under his breath, from where he stood beside Hojo, hands clasped behind his back, posture erect, looking ill at ease with the whole exchange.

"I am as gentle and loving as God allows. As ever," Hojo replied, stepping forward. "Do not take it too harshly, my dear. While I, as always, trust in the visions God sends to me, the Emperor is a man of... More pragmatic applications. There are precedents that must be seen to before you are properly his wife."

The needles of the spruce dug into Cloud’s palm and a chill settled into her veins even as her heart thumped violently in her chest. It was a far cry from the warm affectionate welcome she'd allowed herself to daydream of, through her long journey through the wilderness to this foreign place. 

The archbishop's words drew her sharply from the thick fog of her own thoughts. "Of course. Forgive my ignorance, but what sort of precedents?"

"Well, we will need to make certain physical examinations. One unfortunately befalls to me, to ensure you are in tact... Your maid will be with you, as will the good General."

Her eyes flickered from the archbishop to the general, to the dark haired man whose mouth was drawn into a line so grim he looked to be witnessing a particularly gruesome execution. Her jaw twitched, tense, but she drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin in a show of collected bravery. "Very well."

"Splendid. If you'll follow me, the General and I shall escort you to your quarters. I will always be here to guide you, my child-"

"And I will always be here to gut anyone who misdirects you," the General told her, taking up her other side. She was pretty, though not so small as Rufus had made her sound. 

"Ah, yes. Our good General Sephiroth will see that you are properly... Protected. In an earthly sense, at least. Though we all leave our fates in God's hands, do we not?"

"Yes. I am grateful to both of you." Her tone was even, but it was no longer light, if it ever was. There was a gravity to the way she was being escorted, reflected in the strangely hued eyes of the man they'd left behind. "Who was that, back there? I've now been introduced to everyone else."

"A clerk of little import."

Sephiroth snorted. "He's Vincent Valentine; one might call him the Archbishop's... Counterweight, concerned with the more earthly matters of council. Practicalities."

"Are you saying God's will is impractical, General?" There seemed something almost amused in this question.

"I am saying God is impractical. And as I do not pray, you may carry the message to him yourself, personally."

She would have perhaps been more scandalized with this exchange if she were not so full of vague dread. 

"I'm sure the truth is somewhere in between." She murmured, to distract herself. "Or perhaps both at once. God may sometimes will impractical things, but surely there is a practicality in striving to be in His good graces. Why do you not pray, General? The Emperor implied nearly the same."

There were several things Hojo was itching to say; Sephiroth would not let him scratch at any of them as they walked to the soon-to-be Empress's apartments.

"I do not because it has never done me a lick of good, and if the Archbishop - or any man - is to be believed, then it does not matter, as God's will shall be enacted, and I will be judged on how I affected the world around me. That is the way of things. One does what one can -"

"And the rest is up to God. Marvelous," Hojo finished. The footman at the door opened it for them to step through, and while a maid was, indeed, waiting by in a corner, she kept silent and still, almost as if she wanted no part of being in the room at the moment.

Cloud had been determined to face this head on, but when the doors closed behind them and the footmen were outside, she realized she was in a room facing a bed, surrounded by strangers, thousands of miles from home. The color had drained from her face, her skin broke out in little bumps, as cold as the blood in her veins.

"Should I lay down." She asked, uselessly, as she was sure that was what was required, only the doing of it seemed very difficult suddenly.

"Yes, you will need to lie down and spread your legs for me," Hojo said. "I must assure you are intact."

When Cloud only gave him a somewhat lost look, and Hojo's giddiness for the building discomfort of his subject was palpable, Sephiroth sighed a little.

"He's going to check that you're a virgin," he said flatly.

Her eyes widened at this, discomfort suddenly sharpening into fear, making her forget the meek, agreeable tone she had been trying to maintain. "I AM a virgin, I should think it would be obvious if God has chosen me for the Emperor, like you said. ...How does one even check for such things?"

Hojo took a breath, but Sephiroth explained it, his German a little rougher than the Emperor's, but his words as direct as everything else.

"He's going to put his fingers inside of you. There is a membrane there; if you are a virgin, it will supposedly be intact. There are some mitigating factors both ways. Either way, his hands are bony and unpleasant, but it will take only a few moments. There is also plenty of excellent vodka in the palace, which I'm happy to acquire for you, should you need it."

"...I might." Cloud sat abruptly on the edge of the bed, and then laid back before she lost her nerve entirely.

"General Sephiroth." She said after only a moment, turning her head to stare at him pointedly. When he approached, she reached out one hand towards him, trying to be delicate about it, but when he took it, she gripped into it with surprising strength, keeping her gaze on him.

There was something about him that she implicitly trusted, from the moment she'd laid eyes on him. It was hard to explain, and there was so much to process, her harrowing initial meeting with the Emperor and now this. But grasping his surprisingly elegant hand in hers, white-knuckled, gazing up at him as she felt her skirts lifted, made her feel just a little better. He'd promised to protect her, she wanted desperately in that moment to believe it.

"Do you speak French?" Sephiroth asked her, attempting to keep her distracted. Between that and the fact that he wasn't exactly hard to stare at for long periods of time - or so had been said to him - he at least eased the process a bit. Though he could tell when Hojo's fingers initially went in that she was not prone to relaxation. If she was not a virgin, she was doing a very good job of looking every bit as uneasy as one. "It is a more comfortable tongue for me. Count Valentine speaks it. The Archbishop, as well, surprisingly. And your fiancé."

"Yes---" Her breath caught, and she clenched her jaw as she felt the archbishop's fingers pushing into her. She'd barely ever touched herself there, much less been penetrated so bluntly, it was awful. She tried to wrest her mind from the sensation, to block it out entirely. She switched to French. "Yes, I read and speak French quite fluently. It is the native tongue of many of my favorite writers."

"Ah. So you're a philosopher. How German of you," Sephiroth replied quietly, switching over, himself.

"I don't know if I am...I enjoy reading it. Are Russians not interested in philosophy?"

"Most have not enough time to be so. Or the resources. The only women at court who can read are usually considered quite mad."

This shocked her almost as much as the fingers still uncomfortably probing around inside of her, and for a moment she was lost for words. "...The women of court do not read? How do they occupy themselves?"

"With fashion, gossip, and tea parties. And tossing beautifully crafted objects on the lawn to see who has the farthest, yet daintiest throw," Sephiroth explained. The look Cloud was giving him only made his eyebrows rise a fraction, as if in commiseration, or at least apology. "As I said - there's lots of vodka in the palace."

Hojo finally extracted his fingers and his other hand, looking, for a moment, not entirely satisfied. He gave the slightest shake of his head to Sephiroth, as if not to mention it, before smiling once more and going to wash his hands.

"There. Would you like a bath? Some vodka?" he asked. The barest flicker of a grin edged at one corner of his mouth. "Both?"

Cloud sat up the moment Hojo pulled away, a hand pressed against the front of her bodice, and her knees pressed very tightly together, feeling a bit nauseous about the fact that she could still feel the lingering sensation of being probed.

"...Yes." She managed to say, only then realizing she was still gripping onto the general's hand hard enough to cramp her fingers. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip, feeling some of the heat returning to her cheeks.

As Hojo turned to leave she felt something loosen inside of her, as Sephiroth bent to kiss her hand the warmth fully returned to her. As he left she almost called out for him to stay. Instead, she remained silent.

She avoided the gaze of her servant, not wanting to glimpse the sympathy in it, trying to steel herself for what still lay ahead of her. She could not let herself slip, she had to comport herself perfectly until after the wedding night, when they were truly unified in the eyes of God and man.

Easier said than done. The wedding was simple enough, dinner was a blur of strange food, strong drink and chatter, endless introductions and speeches and toasts. And then.... and then.

———

Then she was walking, barefoot through the starlit gardens. A mist was gathering, like the one in her mind, the air was as cold as her heart but she could not feel it. The hem of her dressing gown was wet from the dew laden grass, and she suspected there was still blood staining her thighs, she had not looked since she'd stood from her wedding bed and begun to walk, as if in a trance.

"Empress," came the soft murmur, the subtle surprise of a shadow, shifting from where he'd been sitting. Something that had just rubbed off on him after enough time with Vincent, he thought. When she turned to look at him, he saw the distance in her eyes, and shifted in his seat, pouring another drink. "I see. He did not go easy on you."

She heard the words, she understood them, but only distantly, like a bit of insignificant conversation overheard in passing. She had stopped where she was, and now she swayed ever so slightly on her feet, as if her body was still trying to adjust from a state of motion to one of stillness.

With another sigh, Sephiroth stood, coming over to her. He removed his military jacket and put it around her shoulders, for weight if not for warmth. Then, he led her over to the chair he'd been sitting in, and procured a flask of rum, something of a treat that he thought might go down a bit smoother.

"You're narrow," Sephiroth said, "You'll adjust to it, in time. Either through having babies or having enough decent sex."

Automatically, Cloud reached for the glass that she had been poured, and seemed surprised to find her own hand shaking so badly she could hardly lift it to her lips. The rum was warm and smooth and it warmed her going down, like the weight of his jacket on her shoulders. As if he'd wrapped his arm around her. It smelled like him. She should speak, her mind prompted, working in the background like the script of a play, she should thank him.

She opened her mouth to do so and realized her throat was hopelessly knotted, her sudden forced silence as much a shock as her shaking hand had been. Her eyes stung, watering as if it had been a slap to the face and she had to put down the glass with a clatter before it slipped from her fingers.

For a moment, Sephiroth watched, observing. Then, he stepped forward, pulling out a handkerchief and soaking it in some vodka. The gentility and slowness of his movements were uncharacteristic, but so was the situation. He let Cloud put a hand on his shoulder, grip into it as though she were going to tear out a chunk of flesh and muscle if he tried anything as he rucked up her night gown.

All he really did, though, was lightly mop at the blood. 

"I'm not saying you should forgive him, but the Emperor is used to... Far more experienced lovers. Additionally, he's probably trying to prove to you where your place is. To test your mettle. That's how he is."

She froze as he reached for her skirts, blanching as the numbness surged suddenly back into terror. Instead of pushing him away, against all reason she clung to him instead, as if she still expected him to save her, as if she trusted him even as every muscle in her body tensed for an assault.

The vodka stung, and she let out a little noise. With that, it was as if the flood gates had opened, and she gasped as tears spilled from her eyes, gripping her fist into Sephiroth's vest and pressing her face into the richly brocaded fabric as it twisted up in pain. She sobbed once, then screamed, muffled, into his chest, sorrow and helpless anger and disappointment. The sting of the vodka brought the sensation of being bedded by her husband back all over again, not just the physical pain but everything.

For a time, he let her have it - the crying, the helpless anger. He let her grip and pound at his chest and shoulders, silent until the raging tempest within died down some. When it did, at last, his voice was quiet.

"When I did pray to God, I used to thank Him I was not a Russian woman. It seems an awful lot."

It did not take long for Cloud to exhaust herself. She felt hollowed out, all of that fury and anguish spilled into the night air and evaporated, leaving her numb again, shivering listlessly in the cold as she slumped against the solid warmth of the general's body.

"...Yes." She finally said, and it was an immense relief, just to speak, to be able to speak, like a human being, not a mute object that had been broken and defiled. "Thank you, General." She sniffed, wiping at her tears, though she did not pull away from him. "It has been a long day."

"I expect so," Sephiroth told her. "There is a little good news now, though. Since your virginity doesn't matter, you'll get to take lovers. Some may manage to make you happy."

The idea of happiness seemed so distant, as if she were stranded on the shore of some island and it were a boat passing too far to hear her cries for rescue. And yet...pressed against the general now she felt...warm. Not just her skin, against the cool night air, but something deeper, something that bled from the core of her.

"Right now I can hardly imagine being happy..." she admitted. "But, maybe--" Boldly, she lifted her tearstained gaze to his. Her cheeks and mouth were in a high flush, giving her a markedly sensual look, in just her nightgown and robe, her golden hair in loose disarray around her face and shoulders, Sephiroth's coat wrapped about her, making her look even more petite beneath it.

It was an angelic kind of look, if angels looked tired and distraught at times, too. Sephiroth leaned forward, kissing her mouth softly with his own. He kissed her again, though not moving his hands from where they were. When she leaned her forehead against his to catch her breath, he did not move away.

"I don't know about happiness, but I might bring you some pleasant diversion, for the time being. If you wish it."

Her fingers stroked up the brocade of his vest, smoothing it where she had rumpled it with her fists. She ran her fingers up further, to brush against his throat, the line of his jaw, to trace the shell of his ears and touch his hair. It was beautiful, as silver as the moon, though surely he was not old enough to have earned that color, and soft as silk beneath her her fingertips.

She felt her heart pound in her throat, and then she flushed even more as she felt that pulse echo between her legs, a pronounced heat, an urgency she was wholly unfamiliar with taking her breath away.

"Yes." She said, suddenly sure of the answer, smitten.

"As you wish, then. Please, do enjoy your drink," Sephiroth said with a small grin. He nudged her night gown up just a little further, gathering it at her hips; he had seen it in Hojo's small gesture earlier, how slender they must be. Not good for child bearing, he thought, but Sephiroth could care less for creating little parasites. He focused his attentions instead on leaning down towards her sex, kissing it, too, before he let his tongue slip out to slide between the quickly swelling labia.

"Ah!" She gasped, gripping onto the edge of the table, then sinking back onto the edge of the chair she had occupied as her knees gave out. Sephiroth bent to follow her, and she took her gown from his hands, holding it herself so that he would put his hands on her hips instead.

The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before, his mouth was soft and hot and wet against her, and when he stroked her with his tongue it sent lightning crackling up her spine, pleasure blooming and tingling against her skin. Another little moan trickled from her throat and she found herself shifting her hips under his hands, chasing the sensation of his tongue rubbing against her.

He seemed to enjoy that; or if he did not enjoy it, Sephiroth certainly responded to it well enough; he buried his mouth against her cunt, careful about running his tongue inside of it just yet. Instead, he paid special attention to her clitoris, erect at the moment, and certainly more prominent than he'd seen in a good deal of other women. It was pleasurable, giving him something to suckle at, rubbing his fingers into her tight hips, encouraging her to buck against his face and keep making those delicious noises he was sure were alien to her.

"Oh..!" Cloud gasped, when he first targeted an especially sensitive spot. It was something she'd mostly ignored, sometimes it was a bit irritated, distracting when she walked or rode, rubbing between her legs, against her underskirts. As he kept licking and suckling on it, it became more and more sensitive, an exquisite, addictive pleasure that she found herself entirely lost in. She had forgotten to be ladylike, to be demure, to be passive, and before she knew it she had her hands buried in Sephiroth's hair, gasps and mewling whimpers and groans trickling unchecked from her lips, rutting against him with utter abandon.

Something was building in her, she eventually realized, an urgency like needing to relieve one's bladder, but different somehow. Her heart was pounding, and suddenly her grip tightened, not sure whether to hold him where he was or try to push him off. "Sephiroth--" she breathed out, a hint of distress in her tone. He would not be moved, however, and instead of pausing he redoubled his efforts and suddenly, a burst of pleasure throbbed from where he was sucking her, wracking her body with a hard shudder, leaving her gasping as her fingers loosened, eyes wide as she stared up at the starry sky.

Sephiroth could feel himself tight beneath his breeches, but he could also not have cared less about it, in that moment. Suddenly, making Cloud make more of those noises was all that he cared for in the world, and he had hardly left off before he was right back onto her, rubbing her clit with his tongue from a different angle, working what he could only refer to as the shaft of it until she was pleading senselessly again.

By the third orgasm, she was actually in tears again, and so he at last let up, head resting on one of her bare thighs as he looked up at her.

She was shaking again, but not from the cold. Despite the chill in the air she felt positively feverish, drunk with desire, with pleasure she'd never known was possible. Catching her breath, she looked down at Sephiroth, stroked his face with trembling fingers, then slid from her chair onto the ground, wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him.

"Are we lovers now?" She whispered, and perhaps it was foolish, but she wanted it to be true.

That earned a chuckle, as Sephiroth slid a hand to the nape of her neck, holding it.

"I should be highly remiss to disobey my Empress's wishes."

The touch was so simple, yet it made her ache all over again, and she pressed herself against him, clutching at his hips. "Come back to my room with me..."

"I would be honored to provide an escort," Sephiroth replied. In one, steady movement, they were on the ground, and then they were not. Sephiroth was carrying Cloud as a bride should be carried; like a treasure, meant to be jealously guarded and kept close.

Cloud sighed happily, it was as if all the anguish and strain and heartbreak earlier had been scrubbed away, replaced by the simple warmth of Sephiroth's body, guarded from returning by the strong arms holding her. She curled against him, stroking his throat with her fingers. When they got to her room, maybe they would make love.. she had a chance to do it over, to feel what she was supposed to feel when she had consummated her marriage. She smiled at the thought, and closed her eyes. She would rest, for just a moment, to gather her strength.

———

It was no surprise to Sephiroth that Cloud was fully asleep by the time they got back to her apartments. He placed her beneath where she'd clearly thrown off the sheets and covers, and added a few more furs near her feet, ensuring they were warm enough. Then, he stood for a moment, simply watching.

Maybe it was not a moment; maybe it was a minute, or an hour. Sephiroth couldn't say. All he remembered was that he had the intractable urge to lean in and kiss her mouth once more, and that when he did it, she sighed softly in her sleep. With that, he let himself out of her apartments, though whether to finally find rest or to pay a visit to his fellow insomniac, Vincent, for some companionable silence, was a toss of the dice.

Vincent was in the library, as he often was in the dark early hours of morning, awoken from fitful sleep, or not able to sleep at all. He suspected he spent at least twice as much time here than in his quarters, and accordingly most of his personal effects were stored here. He was not much disturbed, as most of the court had little use for the library, and were happy to rely on his stewardship in bringing them any particular volume they might need.

So it had become his private domain, and very few people bothered him there, especially in the dead of night.

The rap on the door was not more than a suggestion, merely a modicum of politeness before Sephiroth entered. He never asked if Vincent was busy; Vincent was always busy in his own mind, and Sephiroth had learned that a blunt interruption was often the best way to push aside that particular emotional clutter.

He closed the door behind him, standing at it for a few moments, the guttering candles lighting his features dramatically. At last, he turned over one shoulder, and very calmly addressed Vincent in French.

"We're doing a coup," he said simply, as if discussing a round of drinks.

"Another coup already?" Vincent looked over from the book he was reading, perched against one of his thighs as he reclined on a crimson velvet divan, littered around with well-burned candles. His dark hair was loose from the ribbon he gathered it into during the day, and it spilled like ink across the velvet, his gold-rimmed spectacles, gold buttons, and the intricately carved golden details of the artificial hand peeking from beneath his shirtsleeve catching the warm glow of the candlelight, though the rest of him was clothed in a rich black that seemed to swallow the light entirely.

"Not right away. We'll need time, and so will she."

"She?" This finally got the book to close. "I haven't yet conceded that there is a we in this equation in the first place, and now you tell me you're planning a coup to put a girl you've known for one day on the throne?"

"Yes," Sephiroth said, turning towards him. He walked slowly towards Vincent. "You saw what happened in the throne room. I got a glimpse of the aftermath of their first night together. Rufus will burn through a maiden's notion of loving him very quickly, at this rate. She is also not entrenched in the interests of the country, in its wars or politics; we can guide all of that. I know you will do this with me, if for no other reason than to see the Archbishop shit himself."

It was, he had to admit, an extremely compelling argument. Rufus had little love for Hojo, he knew, but he also cared little enough about church affairs to let him have free reign over anything he liked. It was a cozy existence, his security at court and his personal power seemed currently unshakeable. Whereas Vincent was still finding his footing with the Emperor, and, he suspected, it was not always so solid. 

"Even if I agreed, you are right, it will take time. We need to be careful. Before we even speak of this we should observe her further, if she is too weak she'll just be killed the moment we put her on the throne. For all of Rufus's flaws, at least he has a firm grasp on his station."

"Yes. Perhaps too firm a grasp," Sephiroth said. "He's liable to start crushing things if we keep setting them in his hands."

Vincent frowned at this, shifting to sit up, at last, and marking his place in his book to neatly set it aside. "Like us, should we take a faulty step in this plot. It is dangerous, Sephiroth, I don't need to remind you what happened..."

Their eyes locked, the green of Sephiroth's somehow still so bright in the relative dim of the library. 

"No," he said coolly, "You don't. Though, perhaps I would do well to remind you that I gave him the benefit of the doubt for this country, at a great personal cost. For peace. I am not the one who has wasted it in a pointless pissing contest that shows nothing more than that our new ruler understands he can overwhelm with numbers if he cares nothing about the lives they represent."

"The war...yes." He pushed his fingers back through his hair, though it slid back into his face a moment later as he stared contemplatively down at the floor, breaking the intensity of Sephiroth's gaze. "I thought it would be over long before now."

"Yes. There's no point in brooding over what should have been, though." 

Sephiroth himself prescribed to this theory; it was the only way he could go through life without going mad and simply setting fire to the whole palace during his visits.

"For what it's worth... You're the first person I've come to about this. I will not ask her until we have bolstered her, somewhat. Forged a leader that cannot be broken, but is willing to bend. Rufus is only the former."

"Yes, it is good that you have come to me. And good that you mean to wait to act, this cannot be done too rashly. She may not be up to the task. I am not opposed to replacing our Emperor, but only if the conditions seem reasonable, and the replacement, as well."

The grin that perched on Sephiroth's lips was bare, but effective at communicating what was unsaid between the two of them.

"Don't worry, Count Valentine. I'm always well aware that reason is paramount in your world."

Vincent's gaze returned to fix on his, not quite returning his grin but relaxing his brooding, thoughtful frown into something more gently introspective. "Why her, and not you? She is a foreigner, like Rufus. You are a Russian at heart, the people know you, respect you, they would support your claim. The military would follow you anywhere, and Hojo surely would not bring the objection of the church."

"...War is my place, Vincent," Sephiroth told him. "I am willing to do many things for this country... Sitting by idly while others fight for me, pretending amusements and pleasantries... This cannot be my place. All she knows is confinement... It will not be a torture to her."

"You make a fair point." He mused. "I would not do it either, even if the throne were to be offered to me on a gold platter."

"Well, we all know it is a calling by God, and nothing else. I doubt He shall call on you too soon."

"Are you suggesting I am cursed in the eyes of God? I certainly feel that way sometimes..."

"Well, the Archbishop most certainly does not pray for you... Perhaps we ought to petition the Patriarch."

"Yes," he muttered darkly. "No words that leave that man's lips on my account are prayers, no matter what shape they might take. I really should rid myself of him, yet I cannot seem to want to do it enough to succeed."

"I suppose that is the failing of those with actual faith - an appetite for murder must be either absent or repressed."

The words startled him. "I didn't mean murder." He said, a bit sullenly.

"Oh? I was unaware you could mean anything else. As clearly, you have no other serious bond with him..." Sephiroth prodded. At Vincent's reproachful gaze, he let off. "All right, I shall not needle you. Tell me what you were reading."

At this, his expression shifted from it's habitual brooding into something almost lively. "I'm glad you asked--" he began, picking up the book again.

———

[Some years back, but not many.]

Time had lost it's meaning. 

Vincent had drifted from the haze of pain to a morphine sleep, to days of delirious fever, after his surgery. None of it had seemed real, it was a living nightmare that had sunk its claws into him, wrapped its dark wings around him, weighed heavy on his heart.

He did not know then, in his ignorant delirium, how the fever had been a mercy. When it broke, his servants gave him the news. Lucrecia had left the court, Hojo was to stay. Worse, that he joined the church, that he had repented and was revered by everyone, a thought that made Vincent's stomach turn.

From then, he could hardly bring himself to eat, he did not want to rise from his bed or dress, except his servants harassed him until he did. He became pallid and gaunt, a ghost wandering the halls, the gardens, the library, sick with heartbreak, longing, hatred. He penned long letters in a shaking hand, ripped and burned them, fell asleep on the library furniture.

Life had become a torment, he felt as if he were already dead, that he was being dragged through purgatory, the beauty and gaiety of court mocking him at every turn. On one such beautiful spring day, cool and crisp and cloudy, he decided to end it. 

The knife shook in his hand as he held the point over his heart. He waited long minutes trying to convince himself to go through with it, to make the plunge, but he could not. He screamed in frustration, he broke his mirrors, he cut at his thighs to punish himself for his weakness.

And then he found himself stumbling, tears dripping down his face, blood dripping in an uneven splatter to the shining marble hallways behind him as he staggered through the final set of doors, laying eyes on his adversary.

In some ways, it was a moment Hojo had been expecting since the duel. He had often heard murmurs of Vincent, but had not sought him out, especially for what he'd heard. For what now stood before him was the wreckage of a beautiful boy, deprived of his dream, and though Hojo felt nothing so stupid as remorse in his heart, he did feel something stir inside of him. He was still trying to work out what it was, exactly, but he rose from his floor, where he'd been expelling a little of his physical energy.

"You seek my counsel, Count Valentine?" Hojo asked, trying to be serious about it, but entirely unable to do so.

Vincent did not reply yet, only walked towards him, bloodied knife in hand, his gait unsteady as he stared him down with the weight of his hatred and despair.

Finally, he stopped, within arm's reach of the newly minted archbishop, and spoke.

"...I prayed that God would end my life. His mercy has not come fast enough, so here I am."

"To ask me to pray for you?" Hojo returned, not entirely certain whether the question was genuine or a joke, himself.

"Have you truly found faith? Or is this, like your love, just another artifice for your personal gain?"

For a moment, Hojo merely looked at him, before a laugh bubbled up from his chest. He shook his head.

"I pity your limitations, Count. As I always have," he said. "That we did not share the same method of love did not mean that I loved any less. It did not make yours more pure, as you would have gained much from such a union as well. Love is many things. God is many things."

Part of him knew he was right. It was the voice of reason in him that, as ever, refused to be silenced by his personal pain, even if it had also failed as a floodgate to the outpouring of his heart, letting him drown.

"Pity... if you possess even a shred of it, then you will finish what you started at the duel." He stumbled forward another step to pin the knife against Hojo's chest, keeping it pressed there with his hand until he took it.

At last, Hojo did, his fingers closing around the handle of the knife. When he felt Vincent slacken, saw him draw back to only look at him, pitifully apprehensive, he took the blade and tapped it to the side of him, where the knob of his shoulder filled out only a bit of his shirt. 

"It would seem a doctor has beaten me to it. As it did not go gangrenous, that would be rather a sign of God's will that you live, I should think."

A flush of anger colored his exceptionally pale cheeks as he jerked his shoulder back, away from the tap of the knife, then turned entirely away from Hojo, one hand reaching up to clench into his own hair as his posture slumped, tensed as if he were suddenly in consuming physical pain, trembling.

"I cannot live like this...I cannot..."

It inspired something dark inside of Hojo, making him walk forward, his empty hand filling with Vincent's tangled hair and pulling him back up by it, with such a force that he felt the taller man bend back over his shoulder, ear close to his mouth as the blade of the knife found his throat. 

"You can. You will, you coward."

Vincent's vision was blurry, eyes filled with tears and his glasses forgotten on a table somewhere. But the steel against his throat was crystal clear in his mind's eye, the sharp pain of the blade, the ache in his scalp seemed nearly a relief, seemed purifying.

For a moment, he felt the tension slip out of him. "Please." He begged, his voice a low, desperate rasp, his hand grasping for Hojo's wrist, not to pull it away but to convince him to dig the blade in deeper.

"No," Hojo told him, breath hot against Vincent's ear, words vibrating around the shell of it. 

The knife plunged downward dramatically, ripping open Vincent's shirt as though Hojo had far too much practice at doing such a thing. He tipped the curve of it inward, running it along Vincent's hip, curling upward, a slow, burning itch. 

"If you cannot handle damnation, I will not take it for you. I have already thrown one life away on your pretty face."

A low whine scraped from his throat as the blade cut into the sensitive flesh of his hip, into his groin and stomach, making him shudder. From the cold depths of his misery, he was aware of a sensation rather like someone had moved a candle close to the center of his body, a sudden flush of heat. He tried to process what Hojo had said but the words didn't fully make sense to his mind just then.

The buttons on his trousers were the next to go, then, and Hojo watched with some satisfaction as Vincent's swelling member was released from its confines. He twisted the hand in his hair and pressed his nose into it, smelling him as he ran the blade over the top of Vincent's cock, nestling it neatly into the slit of his cock.

He drew in a sharp breath as the steel of the blade stroked along his prick, suddenly fully aware of Hojo's intentions, trembling as he was caught between revulsion and desire. It was so terribly intimate, the tip of the blade kissing his cock, pressing into it, and Vincent turned his head in shame to realize that not only was he not pulling free, he did not want to pull free.

He should have died, he thought bitterly. Is this what God had spared him for? To suffer the humiliation of this twisted pleasure at the hands of his enemy?

"Do you touch yourself?" Hojo asked him, nicking Vincent's urethra, turning the tip of the blade down and working at the remains of his foreskin.

He drew in a sharp breath, embarrassed at the question, humiliated at his reaction to being cut into at such a vulnerable, tender place. "...No," he admitted. "I...have, but it makes me feel...sinful. Unbalanced. It stirs things I have tried to bury."

"Thinking of it is as good as doing it. Lust is lust, in the eyes of God, you know."

The knife tore a little point under the skin, getting the blood flowing, as he could see how dark Vincent's cock was with arousal already. He left off of it for a moment, cutting a delicate line down, and towards his sac. 

"What possible things could it stir which a wife could not balance for you?"

It felt like a confession, perhaps it was in a way. As hard as it was to believe this sudden change in Hojo from sinner to the messenger of God's will, it was easy to fall into this familiar pattern, easy to commit himself when the script and trappings were so clear. "...Thoughts darker than lust...I felt them.. when I was a youth."

"Did you?" Hojo asked, thumbing Vincent's balls like a ripened fig, the blade cutting into the side below, though not too deeply. A balance of pain and pleasure that he had become very, very adept at, over the course of his life.

The touch drew from him a choked noise, part whimper and part groan, shaking again at the intensity of these sensations. No one had ever touched him like this, and it felt like a revelation. He thought being in love would supersede his fixation on pain, on darkness, would make him forget the marks of the demon he bore. Now, under Hojo's hands, at the press of his knife, it seemed that being given this exquisite pain was an act of love.

For a moment, Hojo let him have it, let him shake, and listened to his panting breath grow heated. He curved a slice up just beneath Vincent's balls and curving towards his hip, getting deeper as it went out. 

"Is that what those slashes on your thighs were? For I must tell you, Count Valentine... There are always darker lusts in this world than an innocent young man would think."

"Not those... not then... I was just hurting, I was angry with my weakness, when I could not plunge the knife true... but I have done it before, I have wanted it before. Wanted that, and more, I had to be stopped.. I was destructive...a danger to myself, to the people around me..." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper when he confessed, "I was possessed."

"Mm... Has it ever truly been lifted from you?" Hojo asked, tormenting him both with his words, and with the way the tip of the knife swirled back around to follow just against one of the throbbing veins in his cock.

He swallowed thickly, just trying to breathe, trying to gather his thoughts into logical order with his heart beating so violently in his chest, with his prick throbbing, his skin prickling and hot. "It was exorcised. I don't know. I try to live quietly, I try not to excite those feelings that feed it. I have...terrible nightmares...even now."

"If it can be fed, it is still a part of you. Perhaps it is a matter of control that is needed. You will come to me when sin must be unleashed. I will not kill you, Count... But I will contain you," Hojo told him. The knife finally left off of his cock, angry and sore with strokes from the knife. "Now be of use and put your hand around your cock. It will not pump itself."

He wanted to object, but he was weak. Part of him refused to believe that any part of this could be holy or right, but a stronger part of him wanted it, whether it was holy or sinful, the despair that had driven him to the edge had already eaten away at his will, until he was perfectly pliant in the archbishop's hands. His fingers wrapped around his prick, and he drew in a sharp breath to feel the sting of the cuts as he squeezed around the girth of it. A moment later he was stroking himself, not with demure shame but with a heated urgency, biting into his lip hard enough to draw blood to stifle the moans that bubbled up from him.

Hojo could smell it in the air, a heady scent; he resisted throwing Vincent over his dresser or onto his bed, fucking him raw, as would satiate him so well after quite a while of forgoing pleasures of the flesh. He was satisfied knowing what it would do to the other man after this encounter, satisfied to run cuts up his belly, hair wrapped around his hand so tight that it popped Vincent's neck. All the while, Hojo murmured prayers into his ear, his cant thick and low, hypnotic.

Vincent finally came undone with a scream. It was not the sort of sound that, knowing him, one would suspect he was capable of uttering. It was ragged and feral, unhinged, as he'd said. A moment later, panting for breath, he felt the same sinking rush, like a fall of a precipice into the unknown, something dark squeezing around his heart, whispering accusations to him. Monster, it said, sinner, unnatural. The scream turned to a sob and he tried to rip himself out of Hojo's grip. When he did not budge, he fought, punching, clawing, kicking at him in a sudden violent fury.

Though Vincent was taller, Hojo had, perhaps, a little more in the way of training to grapple with others. He held Vincent to him, bracing, not stopping for a second, except to get him onto the bed. His back hit it, and Hojo looked into his eyes, an intense curiosity there, but perhaps too much intense excitement, too.

"I have the power of God on my side, monster. No matter what darkness you possess-" Here, he had to pause for a breath to get his arm as a bar across Vincent's throat, cutting off his air, leaning in. "I will always have the Holy Fire to banish it."

The word echoed in his head, monster, and it made him redouble his fight, desperate, feral, like a creature ready to struggle even if it meant cutting it's own throat open. He'd wanted that, after all, wanted to be struck down, to be cut loose from his suffering once and for all.

What he got was close, his thrashing finally ceasing as unconsciousness closed in on him, his form going limp beneath the priest's hold, sinking into oblivion.

Hojo moved back, up and off of him, though he did not have to look far for any length of chord. He bound Vincent's remaining arm to one post of his bed, his feet to two others, impressed that he stayed so thoroughly dead to the world. He wondered if it would stay that way as he took some vodka and poured it over his stomach, cock, and balls, rinsing the cuts.

Exhausted as he was, the shock of the cold liquid hitting his skin roused him, groggily, to the sharp awful sting of the alcohol, more painful then the initial cuts had been. He hissed, and tried to jerk himself upright, tried to pull in his knees, only to find himself bound tight. His eyes widened as he turned his head to see Hojo standing over him.

"That won't be necessary, Count. I am only seeing to your initial treatment," Hojo told him, retrieving a cloth and running it over the cuts again, wiping away some of the vodka and blood, as well as re-stimulating his clearly over sensitive cock. "Would you care for a drink?"

"....Yes." He said, because he was too worn down to even think of dissembling.

"Open your mouth," Hojo told him, amused to see the slight flash of recognition, humiliation, then, arousingly, capitulation as he did what he was told. Hojo poured vodka into his mouth, waiting for him to swallow, and then poured more. "You will stay here for the night. I think that's best for everyone."

Vincent swallowed. The vodka stung at his bitten lip, and being attended to while bound in such a manner stung what little shreds of pride he had left, and he turned his head to one side, listlessly. He put up no argument to this verdict, however, the archbishop was right. He had acted like a savage beast, he deserved to be subdued like one. His lack of control shamed him, the memory of pleasure marred by his own faults.

"Put it all from your mind, Count, and be at ease. I will tend to you and your monster." He pulled covers and furs up and draped them over Vincent, warming him. He took a drought of vodka for himself, emptying the bottle, and set it down, putting the knife in it as if it were a stopper. When he turned back to Vincent, he ran his thumb over the wound on his lip, smiling at him. He leaned in, his voice once more a murmur. "For I always see my projects through."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rufus/Reno, 
> 
> Rough sex, bondage, caning, biting, scratching, impact play
> 
> Cloud/Rufus/Reno
> 
> Threesome, Reno is an enthusiastically horny bisexual nonbinary slut, Rufus continues to instigate historical marital consent issues

The dodge from dinner was never a great surprise to Reno, not after all these years.

Still, she had, perhaps, expected to be put out about things for a few days at least while Rufus admired his newly caged bird. Not that she felt particularly sorry he hadn't - she'd worked up a lather during the day, and no one could really help her shed it like the Emperor. They were barely into his apartments before Reno got her hands around his cravat, yanking at its knots with an admirable dexterity. 

She let out a peel of laughter as Rufus, ever pragmatic and never particularly subtle, went directly for her buttons. She felt his fingers dig in against her stays, wriggling between the panels of silk in her gown before ripping it all apart. 

"Christ be with you, has your new toy already got you so bored?" she asked, slapping his chest with another laugh as she was answered, in part, by the ripping and popping of her gown - undoubtedly, it would have her seamstress cursing the Emperor's name all over again.

Rufus tore the bodice and stays both off of her, his hands catching and squeezing her breasts, leaning down to bite into one as if it were a ripe peach, vicious enough to leave a bruise.

"Mnh." He replied, only after he'd come back up, twisting her nipples between his fingers as he shoved her back against one of the bedposts hard enough to pop her spine, one thigh rubbing between her legs. "That girl isn't a toy, she's a chore. I thought she was going to cry when I fucked her, she lay there stiff as corpse, trembling the whole time."

"Well, she is German," Reno told murmured, rubbing back against his leg shamelessly as she undid his waist coat with one practiced hand. When Rufus gave her a look, she nipped at him, moaning when he bit her mouth in return, rather than back away. "All I mean is that you might be too used to Russian women now... Or maybe there's just no comparing to me."

"Aren't you cocky." He murmured, catching a fist in her hair and prying it back as she finished with his buttons, leaning in to suck at her neck, leaving a bright mark high up where everyone would be able to see it. "Almost like you think you're not just another replaceable whore."

"Hh- Show me anyone else who can handle a cane with half my dexterity and looks as good naked, and I may learn my place," Reno told him. She ripped the laces of his pants loose, freeing his cock, though not without also stroking her other hand upwards, her finely filed nails dragging down, scratching welts onto his stomach as she rubbed his prick.

To his credit, he didn't give her the pleasure of seeing him so much as flinch, even if the drag of her nails stung as they left bright red welts against his fair skin. He lifted his hand as if he was going to strike her across the face, his ice blue eyes calculating, then shifted his aim and slapped her breast instead, catching her by the throat a moment later.

"Learning your place was never the issue, you've always been a smart whore. See, your cunt knows exactly what it came here to do..." His other hand had gotten up her skirts, and he wasted no time in getting his fingers shoved into her as the fingers around her throat tightened.

Rufus hadn't needed to provide any lubrication - Reno never had a problem getting excited over him, and at that particular moment, she had to cede their competition to moan. Her shoulders squeezed the bedpost as she felt his fingers catch inside of her, felt the air being wrung from her throat. It made her cunt drip down his hand, and she gave him that before she raised a leg up, kicking back at his hip. Enough to dislodge him, and, hopefully, make him use both hands, if he were going to subdue her.

"Bitch," he spat out, shoving the fingers he'd just had in her cunt into her mouth. When she bit him, and nearly managed to knee him in the balls, he tore his fingers loose and wrapped his second hand around her throat too, breathing hard, disheveled and aroused, squeezing while she thrashed until he felt her knees buckle.

There was something so delicious about what they had like this, Reno thought, cheeks flushing, fighting tooth and nail as she sank down. In fucking, in fighting, they were both completely serious about a facade; up front about what they wanted, tearing each other to bits to dig it out. The oblivion she fell into was rough, but it held her deep, as she spent every ounce of energy trying to keep from its clutches. 

It gave Rufus enough time to get her thrown up onto the bed. One arm tied, she realized, though he'd already moved with a solid grip on the other one. 

"Hm... I can't decide," she wheezed, making an attempt to pull out of his grasp, but not entirely succeeding, nor expecting to, "If it's better to choke you out, or when you choke me..."

Rufus leaned his weight onto her other arm as she tried to pull it up. They were, surprisingly, matched in raw strength, but he had far more leverage. He looped the silk sash around her wrist and tied several hard knots in it.

"I can't decide. Should I beat you black and blue with your own fucking cane, or fuck you first? Maybe I can do both at the same time." He picked up the wooden implement from where it was lying on the bed, running the smooth edge of it against his own lips as he stared down at her, his prick hard where it was still freed from his breeches, his shirt and vest discarded somewhere.

"You know it won't have the same sting, up close," Reno teased him, though it was true. She nudged his probably still sore hip with her knee, rolling her own hips upwards. "Besides... Aren't you ready to have your cock back in something alive?"

The cane came down hard, cutting through the air and snapping with a satisfying thwack against her inner thigh as her hips rolled up. "I don't know. Maybe I want to hear you beg for it."

"Well, maybe doesn't get many things in this world, does -" 

Her question was broken by another hit from the cane, her tender, pale flesh stinging. She laughed, even as her eyes watered and her cunt throbbed insistently.

"Clearly I made the right choice." He brought down the implement again, pleased at the bright red welts it was leaving behind, sure to leave bruises in their wake.

"How long will it take to break you, I wonder? It might be nice to fuck you trembling and crying, like my new German bitch." He hit her in the ribs with the next blow, knowing it was mean, knowing those bruises would be hell pressed against her stays, and knowing she could take it.

"If that's what you want, you're going to have to start hitting a lot harder," Reno said, yelping as he did. Panting, she laughed, "Or maybe you can give me rehearsal notes, and I'll try to put on my best performance."

Rufus redoubled his efforts, until Reno stopped talking, breathless with the force of the blows raining down on her breasts and ribs, her stomach and thighs. He aimed the last one at her cunt, catching her clit, though with uncharacteristic mercy, he pulled some of the force. It still stung like hell, and finally he tossed the cane aside to lean down between her legs, sucking at her swollen, stinging clit, running his tongue over it before he straightened up to crawl onto the bed properly, gripping her thighs and pulling them apart as he moved between them, his need getting the better of him as he thrust his prick into her.

"Oh fuck, hah- yes-" Reno bit out, bucking back onto it, her whole body lurching forward again, making the posts creak, the silk tying her to them strain. "If you don't fuck an indentation of me into this bed, I will never forgive you."

—

The morning after her encounter with General Sephiroth in the gardens, Cloud had woken to the new day with a new outlook. The anguish and humiliation she’d suffered had been eased, replaced by a determination to put her new found knowledge to work improving her situation. She had risen, relieved herself in her chamberpot, then with a luxurious inspiration, she lay back down on top of her covers, hitched up the skirts of her nightgown and explored herself with her fingers. She found that sensitive spot that Sephiroth had lavished attentions on with his lips and tongue and rubbed at it, stifling a noise with the back of her hand when she found it still sensitive, aching and pleasurable to touch.

She was still rubbing and stroking at herself in a pleasant haze when the doors opened and Tifa came in, causing her to arrange her skirts hastily, though she had a feeling from the look Tifa gave her that she’d known exactly what she was doing. And approved, she suspected. 

The day was full of new and awful revelations about court life, but she refused to be discouraged. She was pleasant, if often reserved and distant, her daydreams a welcome distraction from the dull chatter of the ladies, the various formalities she was walked through. She was thinking about the evening, how she would try again with Rufus. How she would not be terrified but inviting, how she would melt the ice in his gaze into passion. She suspected now, even after just one night, that she could not love him. But she was to bear his heir, they had to couple. She wanted to enjoy it, now that she knew it was possible.

After dinner, she went to her chambers to have her gown removed, and freshen herself from the day’s exertions. Naked beneath her silk dressing robe, her hair loose down her back, she walked the hall between her room and the Emperor’s chambers, pulling open the doors and letting herself in, walking through to his bedroom with her head held high.

"Husband, I’ve come to—" A moment too late she realized what was happening in her husband’s bed.

Reno had one heel dug over Rufus's tailbone, one up in the air, and had been in the middle of letting out an exquisite moan when she became aware of the stillness in Rufus, as he looked over his shoulder. She pushed herself to the side a little, then smiled, a lilted, lipstick smeared titter. 

"Oh, my... What a vision," she murmured to Rufus. Not entirely wickedly, either; Cloud was very pretty, and prettier near to naked, with her golden hair all spilled about her shoulders. She knew Rufus must be taking that in, too, and used the time to squeeze his hips into her again, as tight as possible, giving her additional leverage to wrench one of her wrists free, too.

"....Cloud. Come join us." He said, after a moment of consideration. He would have perhaps pulled out of Reno to make some room, but she had a vice-like grip on his hips that he knew nothing short of breaking some bones was going to dislodge.

She was entirely still for a moment, cheeks flushed, but palms clammy, as if her body didn't know how to acclimate to this new information. Before she could even think properly, the words left her mouth.

"What would you even do with two women in a bed?"

"You mean," Reno told her, "A woman and me."

She tore out of the restraint, the sound of the silk snapping sending another little jolt through Cloud. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as she watched Reno make a grab for Rufus's hair pulling him into a kiss that was so much more graphic than anything she'd ever been exposed to.

A low noise escaped Rufus as he bit into her mouth, snapping his cock into her with marked violence, a reactionary impulse as he felt her bite him right back. The biting turned to something else as Reno tried to fuck his mouth with her tongue, and Rufus just tried to fucking keep up. Finally he tore away, coming up for air, licking at his swollen lips as he looked back at Cloud.

"Don't make me ask twice, Empress. Ditch the robe and sit your tight little ass down right here." He gave Reno's abdomen a stinging, open-palmed slap. "I want to watch Reno play with you."

"You mean you want a shield," Reno accused, though she certainly didn't seem opposed to the idea. She even stretched out a little as Cloud slowly edged in, for all the world, looking like a woman going to her execution. 

"Oh, come on. Be fun. Your husband has already freed you of your need for purity," Reno said. "And I can't get you pregnant. Though neither will he, tonight, probably."

"Don't be so fucking sure, Reno." He reached down and pinched her clit hard between his thumb and forefinger, thrusting into her again, then turning his head to look irritably at Cloud. "...What are you waiting for?"

"I... How... Am I meant to..." Cloud stumbled through the question, still in shock. Reno was covered in welts and bruises and other strange marks, and though Rufus possessed fewer, he looked as though he'd been brutalized, too. 

Then she looked back at Rufus, into that gaze again, so freezing that she felt determined to do anything to pick it apart, chip by chip of ice. She let her robe fall to the floor, trying not to wince at the loud huzzah it earned from Reno, especially not while climbing onto her belly. Her physique was so much more bony and muscular than she'd thought, for a lady of the court, as if Reno were used to exerting herself just as thoroughly as any young man.

Rufus drank her form in, the pale skin flushed with the heat of embarrassment, her blue-green eyes determined. As soon as she was settled, he snapped his hips into Reno again, as if to cue her to get her hands on Cloud.

It wasn't as if she could very well resist - the noise that came out of her was depraved, and she had to slap her hand to something; it might as well have been one of the Empress's perky little tits. She massaged it, pulling on her rose bud nipple.

It was hard to know where to put her hands. On Reno's breasts seemed a very obvious place, but her heart was already pounding in her throat, and they were covered in welts and bite marks, besides. So she gripped at her own thighs, demurely, biting back her initial noise at Reno's hand groping at her breast. When her fingers tugged at her nipple though she uttered a little noise as she gasped, the sensation making her clit throb embarrassingly.

"You poor thing... You really were a virgin, weren't you..." Reno asked, breathless, but not at all abashed. She ran her hand down Cloud's milky skin, prickling all over, and took ahold of her wrist. "Not that - ah- I would give orders to either of my revered rulers, but - hnn- someone should get that sweet little button taken care of..."

"Of course I was--" she said indignantly, despite the heat of the situation. It was unthinkable to her that it could have been so universally doubted, first the archbishop and now Reno.

"You do it, Reno. I'm busy."

Reno let out another moan as Rufus punctuated his comment with a thrust, and moved Cloud's hand to one of her own breasts, squeezing her fingers around it. Once that was settled, or at least while Cloud was distracted by it, her hand darted back between them, flicking Cloud's clit, then rubbing it, rolling it between her fingers.

It was nice to watch, to say the least, his new bride trembling, shy, slowly warming up to the skill of Reno's fingers. It didn't take Rufus long to get even more worked up than he was, his thrusts becoming faster, harder.

Finally, when he felt himself getting close to spilling his seed, he put a hand in the center of Cloud's back and pushed her down on top of Reno, grabbing her hips and pulling her back, positioning her just above Reno's cunt. He pulled out of Reno and plunged into her instead on the next stroke, barely losing his tempo at all. She was just as tight as he remembered. "Good job getting her wet for me. This is much easier to endure when my cock isn't fucking chafing."

"What trials you men must face," Reno said, kicking him in the back just a little, but not bothering to rearrange their situation. She fixed her hand in Cloud's hair, kissing her, licking the seam of her pretty pink mouth.

Cloud had frozen at the sudden shove, realizing what was about to happen when her hips were tugged at, and scrambling to try to prepare. She barely had time, because a moment later she was being split by the Emperor's cock, and it hurt. She muffled a strained sound into Reno's mouth, pressed hotly against hers, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn't fair. Wasn't it supposed to feel good, if she was relaxed?

Reno felt the drip against her cheek, realizing a moment later it had come from Cloud's eyes. She made a low noise, almost of sympathy.

"Oh, make room, Rufus, your poor wife isn't having any fun... We'll have to wring it out of her," she said, managing to get her hand between their bodies again, rubbing at Cloud's clit, though not particularly gentle about it this time.

"Tch, fine." He shifted a bit to give Reno room to get her hand between them, but didn't let up his pace any, he would not be disturbed from his single-minded focus. The orgasm itself wasn't important, though it felt pretty damn urgent. It was more than that, his seed had to plant in Cloud's womb, it was expected of them both.

Finally, his pleasure peaked, and with a low groan, he shoved himself to the hilt into Cloud's cunt as he spilled, his spine curved, his fingers gripping into Cloud's thighs. He forgot his bride was far more delicate then Reno, and felt her tremble under the bruising force, distracting him a bit from the afterglow of his pleasure. Irritating. With a sigh, he pulled out, and flopped onto his back on the bed beside both of them.

"Well, don't stop on my behalf. Though the Empress should probably lay on her back, I hear that's useful."

"It's never helped me," Reno said. "Though, if you would like to rest, dear Empress?"

She sniffed, blinking back her tears, rubbing at them, trying to compose herself. "...Yes, I should like to rest." She finally said, when she trusted herself to speak without wavering.

The speed with which Reno was able to get out from under Cloud and on top of her was absolutely lewd, in and of itself; of course, Reno didn't stop there. She kissed Cloud, bit a little at her lower lip, remembering to be just a touch more gentle than usual. The little squeak that came out of the Empress when her clit was rubbed again was somewhat endearing, and, she imagined, at least a half decent show.

Rufus watched with lazy pleasure, his spent prick even perking up again a little at the display. Cloud, for her part, was feeling better by the moment. She still ached, where she'd been so roughly stretched, but the pain was fading back to pleasure as Reno's sex rubbed against hers. She had no idea women could do such things, and that it could be more arousing than shocking. Before long she was shyly wrapping her arms around Reno, shifting up to meet her as she rubbed down against her, opening her mouth to her kisses.

Pleasuring Rufus's wife better than he could was a stimulating enough thought for Reno not to be brutal - at least, not this time. She took her time, rubbing harder, sucking more lip between her teeth, exploring the Empress's mouth. And, of course, squeezing one of her creamy tits with her free hand - really, they were going to have to do something about her awkwardness in the bedroom; it seemed a shame to waste such a wonderful canvas, especially as the Empress began to stir, becoming more frenetic, needy.

Little sounds were trickling out of her, her cheeks flush with pleasure as she clung to Reno, kissing her back and rubbing up against her with desperate little thrusts of her hips. She felt her pleasure build and build, like it had in the garden, reaching for something--- then explode with a shiver as she cried out, stars bursting behind her eyelids as she squeezed her eyes closed.

With that, Reno rolled a bit more upwards, one wrist still pinned. She looked at Rufus.

"Let it never be said I sacrificed naught for my country - the both of you finishing before me. The indecency," she said, finally sliding her own hand to her clit, rubbing it hard, unforgiving, letting all the stimulation build, thinking of Rufus, and perhaps Cloud, both watching.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth/Cloud
> 
> Romance, rimming, anal sex, consensual sex, politics, mention of Rufus/Sephiroth

Morning light and fresh air filtered softly through the light curtains on Cloud's windows. Usually at this hour she awoke naturally, refreshed and bright-eyed but she was still deeply asleep. The night before, she had been up into the small hours of morning, lying in her bed sleepless, too many new thoughts and emotions to process. 

Something pulled her from a state of deep dreaming, in a groggy haze, she could not grasp what it was. She shifted in her bed, her golden hair spilled out loose all around her, too distracted to braid it properly into its sleeping plait the night before. Blinking in the morning light, and rubbing the heel of her hand at her eyes she realized someone was sitting at her bed. Tifa? 

A moment later, she jerked upright in bed, snatching at her sheets to cover herself. It was General Sephiroth, she realized, speechless, her heart pounding practically out of her chest.

Typically, he would have been announced. Even the Tsar was announced. 

Sephiroth had been let in by the Empress's admittedly discrete maid, who he would undoubtedly have to thank with something pleasant tasting and strong, for he was certain now that Cloud had not given special directions to allow his entry. Still, this more amused him than anything, and he motioned to the tea set out beside him, black and fragrant with spices and dried flowers.

"Good morning, Empress. Did you sleep well?"

"No." She said, more crossly than she had intended, still staring at him, making no move towards the tea, her pulse still hammering so wildly she thought she might faint. "What are you doing here?"

His brows rose just a little. 

"I thought perhaps meeting a lover might give you a nicer start to your day than usual," he said. "I don't sleep much myself, honestly. Too much energy... Too many thoughts... All that. Besides... You look lovely when you sleep, I've discovered."

Cloud pressed both of her slim, pale hands over her suddenly flushed face, her fingertips applying pressure to her eyelids as she took a slow, deep breath. "You might have discovered that at a time when I was expecting you in my bed." Her hands dropped again to her lap as she fixed her gaze on Sephiroth again, a tiny perplexed frown pinched between her brows, tightening her pink mouth. "It seems I am to have no reprieve from these sorts of surprises."

"Has someone else done this?" he asked, with mild interest.

Cloud's hands were over her face again, all the thoughts and feelings from the night previous rushing back, hot and cold. "Last night..." she began, but trailed off, flustered.

"The Emperor?" Sephiroth guessed.

"I would say 'who else' but that was the problem." She removed her hands again, steadied herself, trying to compose herself. She was in her nightgown, disheveled and her mind heavy with sleep, but Sephiroth's own perfect, unruffled composure at her outburst shamed her into pulling herself together. "I arrived to his bedchamber with renewed determination to make the experience more bearable. Only, when I got there Reno was already in his bed. I would have left but he... both of them..." She reached for her cup of tea.

Sephiroth poured her one and handed it to her, brewed strong, like all good Russian tea ought to be, in his opinion. When she'd had a few sips, he began to talk again.

"Reno is one of his childhood... Friends. Both she and Rude are nearly always at his side. The Emperor takes many lovers, as he is expected to do, but she is as close to an official mistress as he's inclined to get to. They share a sense of determination... And a disdain for proper order."

Cloud sighed, warmed by the tea, the cobwebs of sleep starting to clear from his thoughts. "They share a lot of things, that much was very clear to me."

The chuckle that Sephiroth gave was warm, but dry. 

"Yes. As I said... Childhood friends. Though, were you not prepared for this?"

"For my husband having lovers, yes. For those lovers to be in bed with us at the same time...how could I prepare for something like that? I could never have dreamed it."

"Then your dreams have been very limited," Sephiroth said with a grin. When Cloud's cheeks colored, he only continued, "I suppose I shouldn't make much of a comment on that. Everyone but the Tsar thinks I might as well be a eunuch."

"No--!" Cloud breathed out, shocked, flushing as she realized how instant and candid this reaction had been. "They do not know you like I do, then. Why do they think that? And why would the Tsar know any different? He hasn't struck me as particularly interested in other people's personal affairs."

"He's had many lovers. I suppose those interactions are personal enough for him to be interested in."

The statement was oblique, and he could see Cloud trying to pick it apart in her head, her doe-like eyes dazzling even as she squinted, the sun glinting off her hair like gold. When the sudden realization of the implication hit her, Sephiroth's hand shot out to hold hers, keeping her from spilling her tea all over her bed covers.

"You--! And him? I....I can't picture it at all..." She flushed a brighter pink, high on her cheeks and across her throat. "Did you... lie under him..?" She finally asked, cautiously, as if the idea was so sacrilegious she felt a bolt of lightning might come through the window and strike her. Certainly stranger things had happened this very morning.

At last, Sephiroth's face broke into what could be called a proper smile; the appearance it gave him was that of a cat who had just successfully caught and gutted a salmon, ready to glut itself and looking forward to the act of savagery. 

"Well, neither of us did much laying, as I remember it... But man to man, I'm the better wrestler, and he doesn't hate getting fucked as much as he'd have you believe. I think Reno has even done it a few times herself, with the aid of some equipment, from the way I've seen him take his walking and riding on certain mornings."

Cloud was stunned speechless for the second time that morning, tea forgotten in her hand as she stared into middle distance. That, she could picture, and now that she had... well. She was flustered in a wholly different manner.

"Our interactions in the matter have been few and far between, but there is... A lingering tension. I suppose it's the only thing either of us knew how to use what was left, after the last coup."

She took a breath, remembered her tea, drank the rest of her cup and set it neatly down onto her saucer. "What do you mean, the last coup? Upon whom?"

Sephiroth took it from her, staring at her for a moment before he moved to refill her cup. 

"Against Rufus," he said. "There was a coup before, overthrowing his father, who had inherited from his mother, when she died. Terrible business, but it needed to be done. Rufus was put on the throne, with myself and two other generals backing him, primarily. That was how it should have stayed, it was what was agreed on."

He sighed, and took a long draught of his own tea. 

"Genesis never could abide it, though. He thought Rufus wasn't making changes quickly enough - that he was backing out of what we'd all agreed upon. He tried to overthrow Rufus. Angeal went along with him, because... Angeal could never say no to Genesis. No matter what the cost. They stormed the palace. Thought they'd just have the coup in one go, take care of the last remaining Shinra, and the guards would capitulate, with the rest of the court to follow. It was messy, though. The guards were just as ferociously loyal to Rufus as the soldiers were to the three of us."

"Oh," she breathed out, her bright gaze slightly unfocused as she pictured it, blood splattered across the beautifully rich marble floors and carved wood wall panels of the palace corridors. "...So you fought against him. And you're still here?"

"...I didn't fight," Sephiroth said. His voice was quiet, but never a mumble or a murmur. "In fact, I was supposed to have left the night before. Some small trouble with my stomach had put off my departure, though I'd never been ill before. Perhaps that was God's way of protecting the Tsar."

He smirked a little again. "I managed to get the soldiers to stop fighting, at least long enough to not slaughter half the court. I found Genesis and Angeal against Rufus and a whole contingent of guards in his quarters. Well. I found Angeal's body. They were at a stand still. The room was almost quiet, but there was such tension that it seemed a din in one's ears. Nobody stopped my walking up to Genesis. I snapped his neck, and it was done. I told the soldiers to go back downstairs, and await further orders."

"I'm sorry." She said, finding her throat tight, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "That must have been terrible for you."

"War is terrible for everyone. I'm glad we kept it to these halls," Sephiroth said. He released a small amount of breath. "Either way, after that, you can imagine... There has always been a certain tension between us. Rufus knows I saved him, but he also knows I could just as easily do the same thing. Put my hands around his slender neck and... Well. I'm sure you understand. Those kinds of thoughts cause tension. Sometimes, the only way you can get it out is by fucking until neither of you can see straight anymore, and it saves a civil war."

Cloud was flushing again, by the end of this explanation. Strange, how just a few sentences could move her from the tragic horror of Sephiroth's recent history lesson back to arousal. "...I see." She murmured, not quite as demurely as she would have liked. But when she looked at him again, there was a certain flint in her gaze that had not been there before. "Thank you for telling me. Since I've arrived here, you've been refreshingly forthright with me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that, when everyone at court seems to be so...veiled."

"They have everything to lose by displeasing the Tsar... Losing any kind of rank or grace in front of one another. Just look at your maid; once a noble lady. I'm sure her blood must boil every second of the day and twice as hard at night."

Cloud hadn't known, but somehow, when Sephiroth told her, she could not have imagined the truth of it any other way. It was a missing piece that revealed the full picture of Tifa's cavalier attitude, of her sneering dislike of the ladies at court. "No wonder..." She sighed, then frowned a little, determined, as she looked at Sephiroth. "I have decided not to be afraid of Rufus. I refuse to quiver and scrape like the rest of the court. Honestly, I don't think he deserves it."

"He doesn't. Your hands may be smaller, but they can break a neck, just the same," Sephiroth said. He chuckled again when she seemed startled at this, setting his tea aside and stepping over to her bed, leaning over it. Here, with her, so early in the morning, he'd left his hair down, to fall into rivers of silver as he leaned closer. "And if you're not so inclined to that, perhaps they'd be better put to getting him under you, since the other way seems less desirable."

This caused her to take a little quick, sharp breath in, riveted by Sepiroth's sudden closeness. His hair spilled forwards over his shoulders like liquid quicksilver as he leaned close to her, and she found herself swaying towards him, breathless. "...I'll take that strategy under advisement, General."

"I appreciate your graciousness, Empress," he replied. "Might I stretch your open mind a little further and offer my services to... Other previously unconsidered options? After all... As I hear it, there are some women who cannot relax their cunts... But everyone can relax their backsides."

Cloud's eyes widened again, and she couldn't quite stifle a little shocked gasp. There really was to be no end to the surprises, was there? She felt her cheeks redden yet again, and she felt that heat echo between her legs. "Is that so?" She tried not to be ashamed of her own ignorance, lifting her chin a little, almost defiantly. "...I always imagined it would hurt more, not less."

He put one knee on her bed, before placing both hands beside it. It let his coat fall open, his shirt translucent in the morning light. 

"It can be, when forced. You have to learn to relax - along with a good deal of oil. But I assure you, everyone can learn to relax. I also have yet to meet a single person who admits to having tried it who didn't enjoy it at least a little."

"I admit, I feel...quite relaxed, already..." She murmured, one pale hand reaching up to trail her fingertips up the laces of his shirt, to his throat, staring up into his vividly emerald green eyes. The intensity in them made her feel a bit like a bird, she thought, pinned down by the velvety paw of a cat. And yet the thought of being consumed did not frighten her, it thrilled her.

"That's good. I admit, I may have come here with certain... Preparations." 

Sephiroth pulled a vial of scented oil from his coat pocket, bending to kiss one of her fingers, popping it in his mouth to suck on it a moment. He smiled when she jerked her hand back, unprepared for such a gesture.

Shyly, she tried to cover for her startled reaction, touching the pads of her fingers to his lips. They had a sensual, almost wicked curve to them, and her heart beat faster as they parted for her, and she tentatively slid her fingers between them, over the ridge of his teeth to stroke his tongue.

It was lewd, though whether that was the action itself, or the feeling of reaching into the mouth of a beast just to feel it was something of a toss up. Sephiroth capitulated, let her touch his tongue, trail over his particularly sharp incisors, lapped at her fingertips. Even as he did so, he was moving towards her, his hands reaching beneath the covers, rucking up her gown, stroking her soft belly. A mutual display of trust, he felt, was only appropriate.

Cloud was still reeling over the fact that there was so much to sensuality that she had barely shone a light on. Something like putting her fingers in Sephiroth's mouth, she would have never thought of it, and yet it was making her skin prickle all over, making her clench and drip in anticipation. When his hand brushed against her bare skin she uttered a soft, desperate little noise that was somehow even more debauched for being half-stifled.

Of course, he found her clit, rubbing it with some of her own slick as he peeled back the covers. He'd taken off her boots before he'd come into her room, not wanting to disturb her, and was glad of it now, sliding into her bed, taking off his coat, and even his shirt, allowing her to get a good look at him in a way that he imagined few men probably offered to women - appreciating him for his beauty, letting her lust after him, imagine all the things he could do for her, and not the other way around.

She gripped at his arm when his fingers rubbed her clit, biting her lip and curving her back to rub herself into his hand. When he took it away to undress himself she gazed at him with a marked hunger, propped up on her elbows, her eyes tracing every detail of his lean, broad, muscular form, his flawless skin, the silk spill of his hair down his back. Finally, she peeled off her nightgown and tossed it aside, emboldened as she leaned back onto her bed, spreading her thighs, her hands stroking up her own body, from her stomach over her ribs, over the small swells of her breasts. It was not just to entice him, she realized, it was to please herself, too. She wanted to be touched, wanted to feel pleasure, not as a distraction from pain, but of its own merit.

It was a sight to behold for Sephiroth, who noticed the change in her - there was a pride in her posture, in her eyes, that said she was allowing him to be a part of this. It stirred something within him, to be accepted like that, knowing how many others might feel the sting of rejection in such matters, forever closed to them. He knew where his place was, though, and it was not to delight in the rest of her; his hands settled on her thighs, and he lowered his head, tongue and lips replacing where his fingers had been only moments before.

"Mmnh!" She groaned, squeezing her own breasts, hips lifting to meet the hot press of his mouth against her sex. When his tongue flicked against her clit she gasped, her bare feet curling against his sides. If she were trying to have some modicum of modest decorum before, that was right out, the feeling of his mouth on her reminded her of their first time in the garden, and she was consumed in the heat of that memory, eager and pliant in his hands.

Though he'd have been happy to give her a similar experience, he was really only getting her worked up, stroking her thighs before he lifted them over his shoulders, tongue trailing down, his mouth at last leaving her cunt for the strip of skin in between. Then - to her, shockingly, he imagined - he laved at her hole, slicking it with both his saliva and her own wetness, tongue curling in, just a little.

"Ah!" She gasped again, toes curling, thighs squeezing around his head reflexively, startled at the feeling of his tongue there. "What..." she asked, breathlessly, but when the tip of his tongue worked into her she was groaning again, one hand covering her face as her thighs peeled apart, blushing furiously.

He grinned, though she couldn't see it, before withdrawing, stroking his hands up her legs. He bowed his head.

"Your majesty," he said, then flipped her over.

It was so quick, she had no time to react to it, but he had not made it hard on her. Merely, she had formerly been on her back, and now she was on her stomach, her sensitive tits rubbing against the silk sheets. Sephiroth reached one hand around her to rub at her clit as he went back to lapping at her backside, his tongue plunging in a little more deeply each time before it curled back out.

"Oh....oh..." She groaned, her fists balled into the sheets beneath her. She was caught between rubbing down into the keen pleasure of his fingers rubbing at her clit and the wet heat of his tongue working open her asshole, she could do nothing but squirm, nothing save for muffling her moans into the sheets. Her orgasm took her by surprise, and she only barely muffled a scream, shaking as her thighs squeezed together around his wrist.

The sound of it had him rutting up against the bed a little, too, but he controlled himself, continuing until she'd ridden out what pleasure there was to be had from the first orgasm. His touches became softer, stroking the folds of her cunt for a few moments as he drew back. He reached for the vial of oil he'd brought and uncorked it with his teeth, uncertain if she were particular to roses, but imagining not many found them offensive, in these cases. At last, his fingers left off her sex, stroking the oil along the seam of her ass, into her hole. One finger probed in, working gently, knowing the feeling was different, more solid.

"Oh..." she breathed. It was.. different. Not painful, but foreign, not really pleasurable yet, either. Still, she trusted him. He had advised her that relaxation was required for this new pleasure, and he had never spoken falsely to her yet. She took a slow breath and let herself be opened, thought of how beautiful and skilled his hands were, how he was probably staring down at her with his intent gaze, watching her skin flush.

"Yes. Everything is different. There are implements of stuffed leather, of wood, of glass, gold even... All that could be used. For now, my body will have to do."

"Have to do? No... I can't imagine...anything I could possibly want more. Your fingers, your tongue, your prick... Ever since I first fell into your arms, the thought of you has been almost a torment...haunting me in the most unexpected moments." She admitted, breathless and blushing, already beginning to relax around the press of his finger, incredibly aroused.

"One man is not all an Empress could possibly crave," Sephiroth murmured, a gentle poison as he kissed the underside of her shoulder, his fingers slipping in and out that ring of muscle as it gradually relaxed. "But it is all I have to give to you. It is yours, your majesty."

The slick friction of his fingers pumping into her wrung a whimper from her, muffled into the sheets, and she found herself pressing back into the movement with a little eager arch of her back. "Yes...please...mmnh." 

It was incredible, how good it felt, when just a moment before it had felt so strange and intrusive. The curve of his fingers was rubbing against something deep inside of her that sent sparks of pleasure up her spine, and wound up a delicious tension in the core of her.

Sephiroth peppered kisses down her back, across her shoulders; little, fluttering things as he focused on getting her nice and aroused. It was only then that he pulled out of her to oil his own cock, replacing where his fingers had been. He wiped the excess onto his own leg, moving forward to embrace Cloud, stroking a hand down her stomach, making her feel secured by his massive frame.

"This will be different, too. We will go slowly."

She drew in a slow, shaky breath, and let it out again, feeling the warmth of his chest pressed against her own bare back, skin against skin, held so securely in his embrace. Her pale lashes fluttered and her heart felt full with every beat, spilling out.

"I trust you." She said, and it was not only a statement but a declaration, with equal parts sureness and wonder. Was it strange to allow herself to be given over so fully to a man she had only just met? Her heart replied that, for this man, it was as natural as breathing.

"I trust you, too. To adapt. To find pleasure and beauty in the strangeness of life," Sephiroth said, a small smile gracing his lips as he slowly pressed his cock into her. It seemed like something Vincent would say, but the actions between them right now - those were all Cloud and Sephiroth. He trusted that to his core, something he hadn't felt since he'd killed the last person he'd truly loved.

Predictably, Cloud tensed, but Sephiroth was at the ready, his hand slipping down further, massaging her engorged clitoris. Not very dainty at all, and the thought made his cock twitch. There were, after all, so many delicious things about his Tsarina.  
ashYesterday at 7:14 PM  
She sucked in a little sharp breath when she felt just how thick the girth of his prick was, compared to his fingers. It stung as it pressed into her, even as relaxed as she was, she had to stretch to fit him. She bit back a whimper, focusing on her breathing instead, until a moment later when his fingers were rubbing at her again.

It made her gasp, and then groan, a perfectly lewd noise as she felt his prick drive deeper into her, sending an intense ripple of sensation through her whole body, making the blood throb in her head and in her clit. That intense fullness, the stretch, it was nothing like what she had experienced before, in her rather unpleasant attempts in her marriage bed.

The arm across her chest became less of a bar, Sephiroth's hand moving to massage one of her lovely little breasts, working her clit at the same time. He kept true to his word, going slowly, keeping his pace in and out of her measured, as much as he wanted to hear her howl into her pillows. He sucked on one of the lobes of her ears, currently free of any adornment, nuzzling the shell and breathing against it occasionally, an onslaught of sensation.

Cloud couldn't help but writhe in his arms, not to get away, no, merely overcome with the feeling of his hands, his mouth, his prick, everything she had wanted, even more exquisite than she could have dreamed it. "Oh... oh.." She breathed out, trying to grip at him, reaching back to finally find purchase with one hand against the nape of his neck as he sucked her ear, shivering. Every time he thrust into her, it felt even better, soon she wanted more, could feel an itch that could be scratched mixing with the warmth flooding through her body.

"Slowly," Sephiroth broke, just for a moment, pausing as she had started to buck back against him. "I promised this wouldn't hurt."

It was only when she mutely nodded, panting, that he started again, working even more vigorously at her clitoris; her cunt was dripping, and it gave him more than enough lubrication to work with. His other hand rolled her nipple, pinched at it, and as she gasped, turned her head, he kissed her mouth, feeling her body begin to seize with what he expected was the first intense orgasm of her life.

It crashed over her like a wave, like the crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder all at once. As her muscles spasmed in pleasure they clamped down around Sephiroth's cock, sending even more sensation shooting through her, drawing it out longer and longer as he stroked her through it. Finally her hand reached down to tightly grip the wrist of the hand he was rubbing her clit with, letting out a little sob into his mouth, breaking away just enough to pant for breath.

He waited a few moments before slicking his fingers again and redoubling his efforts, enough so that he could see her cheeks and chest flushed, her shocked expression before she clasped both hands in her pillow and at last shouted into it. It was only then that he let himself go, quietly, but keeping close, his arms once again encircling her, holding her as he negotiated her onto her side.

Breathless, she clung to his arms, wrapping her own around them as if to prevent him from letting go. Her thoughts were blurred into a haze of pleasure, her whole body ached so sweetly, and best of all, Sephiroth was still inside of her, still holding her. She felt as though she could live in this moment forever.

It was almost as her mother had described it to her, except there was no laughter or crying. Still, the way that Sephiroth held her was protective, sweet - things the Tsar had never been towards her. After some time of letting her process, he nestled in against her golden hair and began to kiss at her neck and shoulder again, intermittent and undemanding. 

"I take it you did not know women could come more than once?"

"No," she admitted, blushing. "There are so many things I do not know about lovemaking. Will you show me all of them?" She smiled, knowing the demand was a touch unreasonable but unwilling to relent, lacing her fingers with his, where his arms were wrapped about her.

"I will show you all I know," Sephiroth promised. "Though it may take a while. I would not want you to get sore or be delayed... At least, when you do not desire it."

She sighed. "I suppose that is reasonable. Rome was not built in a day, as they say."

"Nor were all their whores trained in one night." When she gasped at this with some offense, he found himself smiling back at her. "I meant myself, your majesty. I am best at base things."

"Is that really true? I'll admit you have a stunning talent, but is it truly your best talent?" The tone was teasing, but she was also in earnest, curious about him in more ways than just sensually.

"I'm good at killing men. I prefer this, though - I have a sometimes lamentable tolerance for alcohol and drugs, as well as piety. Sex, then, presents the greatest relaxation to me," he told her. "Aside reading, at times. Count Valentine and I discuss such things... Perhaps a little too often for my liking, as I'm the only one who will listen to him."

She laughed at that. "Perhaps I could help share the burden, then. I myself have a great passion for reading, and a for more advanced knowledge of books than I have of my most recent passion." She smiled, stroking her fingertips against his knuckles. "Will you introduce us properly some time?"

"Of course. He is, at times, reticent, but... It belies a great passion within him. I think you might stoke it, intellectually."

"If he is a friend of yours, then I should like to see what comes of it. I am in need of allies here, I am still so new to court. It feels as if everyone is watching me at arm's length, as if they haven't decided whether or not they like me."

"I have something of a confession... That never truly goes away," Sephiroth told her. "Not in a position like yours. There are always rival courts, always rival interests, always the passions and secrets and intrigues... Vincent is true, though. Careful, but true. He shall be a good friend to you, and a better ally. As I shall always be."

She tipped her head back, nestled against his chest and throat as she squeezed his hands where they were intertwined with hers. "If that's true, than I can overcome anything."

"You are already capable of greatness," he told her. "I know it."


End file.
